Louder Than Words
by ChickInStarkTower
Summary: Louder Than Words a tenative title: A locked door attempted murder makes the gang to ask themselves and each other Could any of us do that? Written in conjunction with Harper's Pixie
1. Tis a Mystery

Disclaimer: I don't own RENT, but Alexia Hemmingway is my own character from my main story, "The Invasion of The Fluffy Pink Nightmare" Please Read it and review too.

Authoress Note: This isn't taking the place of the aforementioned story, actually, it has absolutely nothing to do with that story other than it's RENT, and Alexia Hemmingway makes another appearance. I think she'll be in most, if not all, of my RENT (the only thing I write as of right now) stories. The cute little Plot Bunny was just feeling off-beat, and I decided to feed it a few carrots, but, then it got cruel and attacked my favorite non-original character. I guess this is an evil plot bunny.

Louder Than Words

(tentative title)

Prologue: 'Tis a mystery

The lights in the loft went out suddenly, and Alexia Hemmingway shrieked. These things happened all of the time, but she just never got used to them. Someone brushed past her quickly, and she called out, "Mark?".

No answer.

"Mark?"

Silence.

"We're not Mark, but we're still here." Roger answered. A flame flickered in the distance, and Alexia saw Collins groping for a candle. Mimi was helping him, and Angel stood holding the flame.

"Benny, I swear to God, if you did this-"

Benny interrupted Alexia. "I'm sitting right here, how could I cut the power?"

She sighed, and called out again, "Mark?"

"Right here." He lightly grasped her arm. Angel shook out the match before it burned her fingers, and they were in darkness, yet again. Alexia felt Mark's lips lightly brush hers, and she pulled him in for a full kiss. It was dark, Roger couldn't see them, therefore, Roger couldn't make a snide remark.

"The circuits in this place suck." Maureen spouted, and Alexia heard, who she was fairly certain to be Joanne, sighing heavily.

Mark pulled away from Alexia and said, "I'll go check the breaker." The breaker that was located in Mimi's bedroom.

"I can go check it." Mimi offered.

"It's fine." Mark answered, and he was heard retreating into his best friend's girlfriend's room.

The next shot heard was a gunshot. Much screaming followed.

And, then the lights mysteriously came back on.

Alexia peered around the corner into Mimi's bedroom, and she wished she hadn't.

"MARK!"


	2. No Witness, No Weakness,and No Regrets

Disclaimer: I still don't own it. Or, the lyrics used in this chapter. The lyrics are from "How did we come to this/Queenie Was a blonde reprise" from Andrew Lippa's The Wild Party

Authoress Note: Don't get me wrong, Mark is my favorite character, this story just kind of happened. Blame it on the Plot Bunny. It's evil. Pure evil. Thanks for the reviews! Oh, and the italics are either lyrics or flashbacks. It's pretty obvious which are which, but, if anyone finds it unclear, please let me know so I can fix it.

VivaLaVieBohemeA

Chapter One: No Witness, No Weakness, and No Regrets

_Maybe I've been living in a daydream,_

_Maybe I've been talking in my sleep, _

_But, if I've been awake,_

_Pardon my mistake,_

_But time is running low, and_

_talk is growing cheap!_

_We play our games,_

_We place our bets,_

_No Witness,_

_No Weakness,_

_and No Regrets!_

_Filling up with frenzy,_

_Killing with a kiss,_

_How did we all come to this?_

_Time goes by,_

_Plans grow stale,_

_People die..._

_And parties fail._

_How did we come to this?_

Alexia was still shaking. Everything had happened so fast.

The lovely little dinner party had turned to hell on earth so quickly.

The power going out.

Mark going to fix it.

The gunshot.

The power coming back on.

Alexia peering into Mimi's bedroom.

Mark with a bullet in his chest.

_Alexia started screaming. "MARK!" She ran to him and dropped to her knees at his side. "MARK!"_

_Roger rushed in, swearing loudly. Alexia was screaming, and it was distracting him from helping Mark. Or, maybe it was the panic blurring his already fogged thinking. "MARK!" Alexia shrieked again. "MARK!" Luckily, Collins and Benny had retained enough sense between the two of them to move Mark to the steel table that Alexia cleared hastily, throwing things here and there, this way and that, most of them landing like thunder on the concrete floor. Joanne had rushed into the kitchen to get a towel to stop the blonde filmmaker from bleeding out so quickly._

_Mark could very well bleed to death before the paramedics even got there._

_"Yes!" Maureen shouted into the telephone. "Alphabet City...Yes, the old records building! Just, please hurry! He's dying!" The words hit Alexia like a slap to the face. Mark dying. "Yes, I'll stay on the line! Just...hurry...please!" Maureen held onto the phone._

_"Alexia..." Mark rasped, his voice barely a whisper riddled with pain._

_Alexia took his hand, noticing how frigid and pale it was in hers. "Shh, Mark, don't talk. I'm here." _

_Mark's breathing was ragged and shallow. Joanne put the towel to the wound in Mark's chest, and the filmmaker winced in pain, his grasp tightening on Alexia's hand. Joanne moved out of the way, signaling Alexia to take over. She did._

_There was so much blood._

_And, as a single tear fell out of Alexia's big brown eyes and landed on Mark's pallid cheek, the filmmaker lost consciousness. _

And now, Alexia sat in the driver's seat of her blue Mercedes, trailing the ambulance and gripping the steering wheel so hard that it seemed, to Collins who was sitting in the front passenger seat, at least, that if she held the wheel any tighter, she would snap it in half. Tears were blurring Alexia's vision. She blinked them away, only to have them replaced by more. Angel sat in the backseat, silently rubbing the small, delicate angel pendant that hung on a delicate silver chain around her neck, praying for Mark. Collins didn't say anything to Alexia until he saw her speedometer reaching for eighty.

"Alexia,"

"What?" She answered rather curtly.

"Alexia, pull over."

"No."

"Alexia?"

"I said no."

"Alexia, please. We don't have to keep up with them."

"Yes we do."

"Alexia-"

"I said **no**. I'm not pulling over."

Alexia wiped tears from her eyes yet again as Angel spoke up from the backseat, "Alexia, chica, slow down. You're going to hit someone and making the paramedics take care of more patients isn't going to help Mark at all."

Alexia flipped on her turn signal, and when they were safely on the side of the road, other cars flying by, not a care in the world, Alexia put her face in her hands and sobbed. Collins let her cry on her shoulder, and she sobbed, and sobbed, and sobbed.

That made Angel cry, and Collins felt himself begin to tear up.

They may never see Mark alive again.

Later, at the hospital, Alexia was still crying as a very nice red-haired detective interviewed her.

"Tell me what happened." she asked.

Alexia took a deep breath and began. "We were having a dinner party for my birthday. Happy birthday, right? Mark gets shot. Happy freaking birthday." She sniffled, "Anyway, the power went out, but that wasn't anything new, that always happens in the building. Mark went in to check the breaker, it's in Mimi's room, and we heard a gunshot. The lights came back on, and I looked, and, there he was-"she choked up, "just lying there, a bullet in his chest."

A surgeon, covered in blood, _Mark's blood_, Alexia just knew. "Ms. Hemmingway," the doctor said quietly, "I need to talk to you."


	3. Rising High and Dying in Vain

Disclaimer: I still don't own it. The lyrics are from the Wild Party again, and Puccini's La Boheme, then, RENT of course. They belong to Andrew Lippa, Puccini, and the late, great Jonathan Larson, respectively.

Authoress Note: Don't hate me for this. Blame it on the Bunny! Oh, and once again, italics are lyrics or flashbacks, except for the thought at the end,and if anyone is confused, let me know.

Chapter Two: Rising High and Dying in Vain

_In my hands the future is crying,_

_Rising high and dying in vain._

_In my hands, salvation is nearing,_

_Steering me from permanent pain._

_With my hand's I'm asking a question,_

_But I know the answer too well._

_In my hands,_

_Heaven or Hell?_

The brisk November air hit Alexia like a slap to the face. She couldn't deal with this.

_"He may never wake up." the Surgeon cautioned._

_Roger looked like he was going to murder someone. "What do you mean, **Never wake up**?"_

_"Roger, calm down." What an oxymoron, Alexia thought, **me** telling Roger to calm down. That was Mark's job._

_Mark._

_Alexia was still crying. Angel asked quietly and calmly, "How much of a chance does he have?"_

_The surgeon shook his head. "About twenty percent."_

_A very large sob built in Alexia's throat and then escaped. "Twenty percent?"_

_"If were lucky." The surgeon sat down next to Alexia. "Ms. Hemmingway-"_

_"Alexia."_

_"Alexia, Mr. Cohen-"_

_"Mark."_

_"Mark, is a fighter though. He's got a reason to live."_

_Roger spoke up, his attention on Alexia. "You."_

_She looked up at him, her big brown eyes shining with crystalline tears. "Not just me. Us. All of us."_

"Alexia, there you are!" Roger shouted, coming up next to her. She quickened her pace, needing to be alone.

"Roger, he's going to die. Haven't you realized that yet?"

"Alexia, don't talk like that."

She stopped, pivoting on one foot to face the musician. "Roger, you saw him. Mark was so pale. People don't wake up from that."

_Addio, sogni d'amour,_

_Addio, dolce svengliare,_

_Addio, rabbuffi e gelosie!_

_Che un tuo sorriso acequita!_

_Addio, sospettil,_

_Baci,_

_Pungenti amarezze_

_Ch'io da vero poeta rimavo con carezze._

_Soli d'inverno e cosa da morire._

_(Goodbye, dreams of love,_

_Goodbye, to waking up together,_

_Goodbye to jealous scenes._

_That one smile from you would end._

_Goodbye to suspicion,_

_And Kisses,_

_And bitter arguments that always ended in love._

_Winter is such a terrible time to be lonely.)_

_"Oh Mark," Alexia breathed as she walked into room 508 on the Intensive Care Unit (known to most as the ICU) floor. He looked so defeated in the stark white hospital bed hooked up to all of those machines. He wasn't breathing on his own. A machine was doing that. There were four different IVs in his arm. Alexia looked at the clear plastic bags as she sat down next to him. A blood transfusion, Morphine, Saline, and another name that Alexia didn't recognize. _

_His chest was tightly bound by white bandages as stark as the sheets on the bed, but a spot of red marred their monotony, the initial wound, and then the incision necessary to remove the bullet. She took Mark's hand, noticing how fridge it was. Alexia usually had cold hands herself, but that was nothing compared to this. A clock chimed somewhere off in the distance, and Alexia glanced out the window, afraid to keep her eyes off of Mark for too long, afraid he may slip away while she wasn't looking, never to return._

_The moon was full, sending a fair amount of angelic light into the room. It accentuated how pale Mark was. The doctor had warned Alexia how much blood he had lost. That's what was so dangerous. The blood loss. Even though she and Joanne had attempted to staunch the wound right after he'd been shot, Mark was bleeding to rapidly for their efforts to actually make too much of a difference. _

_Alexia squeezed her lover's hand, willing him to squeeze it back, and wake up. Wake up Marky, she thought, this isn't funny anymore. Wake up. Wake up! She made her thought vocal. "Wake up Mark. Please, wake up already!"_

_She cried, and cried , wondering who could do this to Mark, and thinking of what she would do to them when she found them, the very slow, weak beeps from Mark's heart monitor barely distracting her at all. Then, she eventually cried herself to sleep._

_From facing your failure,_

_facing your loneliness,_

_facing the fact you live a lie._

_Yes, you live a lie,_

_I'll tell you why,_

_You're always preaching not to be numb,_

_When that's how you thrive._

_You pretend to create and observe,_

_When you really detach from feeling alive._

_Perhaps it's because I'm the one of us to survive!_

Now, Alexia stood outside St. Vincent's, staring blankly at Roger, wondering silently to herself,

_Could Roger have shot Mark_?


	4. The Point of No Return

Disclaimer: I still don't own RENT, or the lyrics used anywhere in the chapter (look closely, you'll find them). Those are from The Phantom of the Opera, and belong to Charles Hart and Andrew Lloyd Webber.

Authoress Note: A special thanks to Harper's Pixie! The plot ideas were worked out between the two of us. We're pretty much writing this together now, and this chapter wouldn't be as good without her! The italic thing is used here, too. Lyrics, flashbacks, a dream and thoughts.

Please Review

P.S. Does anyone recognize the dream sequence? (Hint, hint, it goes with the Chapter title)!

Chapter Three: Past the Point of No Return

_Past the Point of No Return,_

_No backward glances._

_Our games of make-believe are at an end._

_Past all thought of **if** or **when**,_

_No use resisting._

_Abandon thought and let the dream discern._

_What raging fires shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks it's door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?_

_Past the Point of No Return,_

_The final threshold._

_What warm unspoken secrets will we learn,_

_Beyond the Point of No Return?_

Alexia had somewhat unwillingly let Roger walk her back to Mark's room. The filmmaker looked like he'd gotten worse just since she'd left.

_The doctors had told Alexia that talking to Mark may help him wake up, if he ever would. She'd whispered the proverbial sweet nothings in Mark's ear. "Marky," she pleaded as she stroked his blonde hair "please wake up. Marky, I love you."_

_Then, she began singing softly. " Think of me, think of me fondly, please don't say goodbye." Still no response. "Come back to me, please promise me you'll try... Mark, please promise me you'll try. Flowers fade, the fruits of Summer fade, they have their season, but do we? Oh please promise me that our season isn't done." She and Mark loved the Phantom of the Opera. They had seen it together so many times that they had both lost count, and"Think of Me" was their song. She would always sing Christine's part, and he would come in as Raoul._

_She sang on and on, until she was so tired that she fell asleep again, holding Mark's hand. Holding him to her, to this world. To life. _

Her dream was fitful, and inspired by her anxiety, and her song:

_The power was out in the loft. Mark and Alexia were sitting on the red-plaid couch that was held together by duct tape and sheer determination. Alexia had her head on Mark's chest, listening to his heartbeat. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. She felt his chest rise and fall on it's own with every breath. _

_But, then she sat up with a start, remembering what had happened last time the power went out. She had Mark back and didn't want to run the risk of possibly letting him slip away. He stirred next to her, "What's the matter?" He asked, his electric blue eyes making her melt. He kissed her passionately, and she returned the kiss until she pulled away._

_"Marky, we need to get out of here." She answered hastily, "Mark, you're not safe."_

_"What?"_

_"Mark, someone's trying to kill you. Let's go."_

_She got up and opened the door, but as soon as she did, a dark, masked figure grabbed her, pulling her out of the loft, and into a dark catacomb built of cold, unfeeling stone, lit by frightening sconces._

_The masked figure had Alexia's wrist in it's grip quite tightly. The voice was singing, but Alexia could discern whom it was, or even it's gender. "Down once more to the dungeons of my black despair! Down we plunge to the prison of my mind! Down that path into darkness deep as hell! Hounded out by everyone, met by hatred everywhere, no kind words from anyone, no compassion anywhere, why?" God, Alexia thought, this sounds familiar. _

_They had reached the grand room in which the masked figure worked. Manuscripts lay littered about the could stone floor that gave way to a canal blocked not far ahead by a wrought iron gate. It seemed to go on forever, but Alexia couldn't see very far, or very well for that matter, in the dim candlelight. "Have you gorged yourself at last in your lust for blood?" she sang back._

_The masked figure looked at her, and then to the iron gate. "Ah, it seems we have a visitor."_

_Mark stood at the gate. "Let her go. You want me." he said calmly. "Alexia," he shouted to his girlfriend, "Are you alright?"_

_"I'm fine." She answered, worry almost getting the best of her as the masked figure raised the gate to allow Mark passage. He stepped in, up to almost his knees in water, and before Alexia knew it, the figure had him tied to the gate, a noose around his neck, threating to strangle him._

_"Order your fine horses now! Raise up your hand to level of your eyes! Nothing can save you now except perhaps, Alexia! Start a new life with me, buy his freedom with your love! Refuse me and you send your lover to his death! This is the choice! This is the Point of No Return!" The figure shouted, moving the knot closer and closer to Mark's throat, who was practically struggling for breath._

_"Any tears I might have shed for your dark fate," Alexia answered, tears welling in her eyes, "grow cold and turn to tears of hate!"_

_"Alexia, forgive me, please forgive me." Mark rasped, "Take your freedom, don't worry about me."_

_"You try my patience." the figure interrupted "Make your choice." It moved the knot yet closer. "Stay here with me, or he dies! Time to prove your love to Mark!"_

_"Angel of music, you've deceived me. I gave you my song, blankly-"_

_"MAKE YOUR CHOICE!"_

_Mark's blue eyes pleaded with Alexia to take her own freedom, to let him die. She couldn't do that. She loved him too much. _

_"Pitiful creature of darkness, what kind of life have you known? God give me courage to show you you are not alone!" The figure didn't let go of the rope around Mark's neck, but it didn't tighten it anymore. Alexia waded through the water, her billowy gown deflating, giving herself over to their captor. Her freedom for Mark's life. There was no choice in the matter. She crossed to the figure and reached for it's mask-_

BEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEP!

Alexia awoke with a start, and immediately glanced at Mark's heart monitor.

He was flat lining.

_It's over now, the Music of the Night!_


	5. Come To Your Senses

Disclaimer: You guessed it. I still don't own it. Or the lyrics, either, those belong to Jonathan Larson, too, but, they're from tick,tick...BOOM! (or Superbia, whichever way you want to look at it), but, a few liberties were taken.

Authoress Note: Don't flame, and don't hate us for this. Sorry it's so short, but two chapters are going up tonight. Please Read and Review both.

Chapter Four: Come To Your Senses

_You're on the air,_

_I'm on the ground._

_Signal's fading,_

_Can't be found._

_I finally open up,_

_For you I would do anything,_

_But you've turned off the volume,_

_Just when I've begun to sing._

_Come to your senses, _

_Defenses are not the way to go,_

_And you know,_

_Or at least you knew._

_Everything's strange,_

_You've changed and I don't know what to do,_

_To get through,_

_I don't know what to do._

_I have to laugh,_

_We sure put on a show._

_Love is passe in this day and age._

_How can we expect it to grow?_

_You as the knight,_

_Me as the queen._

_All I've got tonight is a flat line on a screen._

_Come to your senses,_

_The fences inside are not for real_

_If we feel as we did and I do._

_Can't you recall when this all began?_

_It was only you and me,_

_It was only me and you._

_But now the air is filled with confusion._

_We've replaced hope with illusion._

_It's cool to be cold,_

_Nothing lasts anymore._

_Love becomes disposable._

_This is the shape of things we cannot ignore._

_Come to your senses,_

_Suspense is fine,_

_If you're just an empty image emanating out of a screen._

_Baby, be real,_

_Can you feel again?_

_You don't need a music box melody to know what I mean._

_Deep in my eyes,_

_What do you see?_

_Deep in my sighs,_

_Listen to me,_

_Let the music commence from inside,_

_Not only one sense, but use all five._

_Come to Your Senses,_

_Come to Your Senses,_

_Come to Your Senses,_

_Baby, Come Back Alive!_

Alexia tried to scream, to shout for help, but she found her clear voice, that had so fluently sung arias in her dream, now totally escaped her. The everlasting wail from Mark's heart monitor sounded in her ear.

The nurse button!

Alexia fumbled for the little button with the red cross on it, still trying to scream. "HELP!" she finally shouted, and soon heard quite a few different sets of footfalls racing down the hall. "HELP!"

The surgeon who had operated on Mark initially burst into the room first, shouting an obscenity as he saw the glaring monitor. Alexia had gotten her voice back, and was now screaming for dear life. "WHAT'S HAPPENING?" She cried, even though she knew what was happening. Mark was dying. "WHAT'S **HAPPENING!"** she screamed again, then "MARK!"

The surgeon took a deep breath, "Somebody get her out of here." he sighed, and Alexia wanted to punch him for his calmness. "Somebody PLEASE get her OUT OF HERE!"

A page went out over the hospital P.A. System: "Code Red, Cardiac Arrest, room 508, ICU".

A very petite, but obviously very strong nurse approached Alexia. "Ms, you're going to have to-"

Alexia shrieked as the defibrillator was wheeled in, Mark still unresponsive, and the same nurse was slowly moving Alexia toward the door. The Surgeon rubbed the paddles together with a shout of "CLEAR!".

The last thing Alexia saw before the nurse pushed her quite forcefully out the door was Mark's body arching upward ever so slightly, and the monitor continuing to flat line, the loud beep prevailing.

Alexia nearly fell down backward, but Roger broke her almost-fall. "Alexia!" he screamed, "WHAT HAPPENED?"

As Alexia turned around to face the musician, she felt the anger rise in her, and her cheeks heat up with fury. Before she knew what she was doing, she had him by the lapels of his jacket, and was slamming Roger against the nearby wall, blind fury and rage taking over. "YOU BASTARD!" she shouted, "YOU SHOT MARK! THIS IS ALL YOUR FAULT!" she slammed him again, harder.

Roger was confused at Alexia's sudden outburst. It took him a minute to realize what was going on. Then his fury rose, matching hers. He pushed away from her. "HOW DO I KNOW THAT YOU DIDN'T SHOOT HIM?" he tried to push her backward, but she didn't move. "YOU CERTAINLY COULD HAVE! AND NOW, YOU'RE PUTTING THE BLAME ON ME TO GET IT OFF YOURSELF!"

Alexia then slapped Roger as hard as she could across the face, and the sound resounded through the almost empty hallway like a shot.

**Alexia's POV**

As Roger nursed his cheek where I'd slapped him, Mark's surgeon stepped out of Mark's room, a grave, defeated expression crossing his face, and the silence that followed was smothering. I felt like I was choking. The expression on the Surgeon's face shouted everything I needed to know. My breathing quickened, this couldn't be happening. It couldn't be true. "No!" I shout as I feel my heart shattering. My vision grays as strong, protective arms catch me as I fall, but I don't care. It doesn't matter anymore. Nothing matters anymore...Mark's dead.

_I just came to say goodbye love,_

_Goodbye..._

Authoress Note: Before you flame, please read the next chapter IN IT'S ENTIRETY.

-VivaLaVieBohemeA


	6. Goodbye Love

Disclaimer: I still don't own it. Jonathan Larson does, and he owns any lyrics used, as well, except for Alexia's note. Those lyrics belong (with a few liberties taken) to Charles Hart and Andrew Lloyd Webber. I just own the story.

Authoress Note: Harper's Pixie didn't even know about this one, and we're co-writing this. I wrote this on my weekend in St. Clairsville, OH, and that's why I haven't updated. Sorry!

Don't hate me for this.

Chapter Five: Goodbye Love

"It's true you sold your guitar, and bought a car?" Alexia asked, her black dress swishing mournfully around her ankles.

"It's true," Roger answered, "I'm leaving now for Santa Fe," he turned to Mimi who was arm in arm with Benny, "It's true you're with this yuppie scum?"

"You said you'd never speak to him again." Benny retorted.

Now Alexia was slowly getting angry. Here they were at Mark's funeral, and the others were acting like infants. "Who said that you have any say in who she says things to at all?"

"Yeah?" Roger added.

Maureen looked at Alexia strangely, then said "Who said that you should stick your nose in other people's business?"

"Who said I was talking to you?"

Joanne then sided with Alexia. "We used to have this fight each night, Maureen would never admit I existed."

"Roger's the same way," Mimi added, breaking away from Benny, "He was always 'run away, hit the road, don't commit, you're full of shit!"

"Mimi!" Alexia gasped. She'd just lost the most important person in her life, and even though she did help to start the fight that was breaking out, she didn't want it to go any further. Mark wouldn't have wanted that.

Mimi then turned on her. "She's in denial," she said to the others, "Little Miss Alexia doesn't want to admit that her boyfriend's dead. Still clutching his scarf for dear life, like maybe it'll bring him back."

"You're in denial!" Roger spat back at Mimi.

"You didn't give an inch when I gave a mile!" Maureen shouted at Joanne.

"I gave a mile!" Mimi screamed, inches away from Roger.

"Gave a mile to who?" Roger answered angrily, and Alexia began crying again, just when she'd thought she had finally run out of tears.

Angel let her cry on her shoulder. "Come on guys, chill." Collins said, trying to help the situation. He just made it worse.

"I'd be happy to die for a taste of what you and Angel have!" Mimi now rounded on Collins, "Someone to live for, unafraid to say 'I Love You!'"

"Oh, your words are nice Mimi, but love's not a three way street," Roger was crying again. Alexia didn't think he was capable of it, but he clearly was. "You'll never share real love until you can learn to love yourself," The other could only guess that Mimi was using again. "I should know."

Alexia spoke up. "You all said you be cool today, so please, for Mark's sake. I can't believe he's gone," she turned to Roger, "I can't believe you're going."

"I can't believe this family must die." Angel added.

Alexia continued, "Mark taught me to believe in love," she turned to Mimi, Maureen and Joanne, "I can't believe you disagree."

Then they all said together, sharing the same thought for an instant, "I can't believe this is goodbye."

Then, slowly, one by one, they each approached Mark's grave, each leaving something of themselves. They weren't just leaving items, either. When Mark died, a part of everyone else died with him.

Alexia approached first. She laid Mark's camera on the headstone, with a note in the case that said, "Anywhere you go, let me go, too. Love me, that's all I ask of you. I'll miss you, and love you forever, you know I already do, Love Me, that's all I ask of you." Then, she added blue and silvery diary Mark had given her for her birthday. She nearly broke down right there.

Roger was next. He lay a blue guitar pick and a box of Captain Crunch down. He couldn't imagine never hearing his best friend, his only friend, tell him to take his AZT, or asking him to play Musetta's Waltz, again.

Joanne approached, leaving behind a pair of tango shoes. Alexia knew why, and nodded as Joanne looked back at the slain filmmaker's girlfriend, silently asking for permission. She would miss fixing the microphones before each of Maureen's performances.

Maureen left a diamond tennis bracelet, and a new roll of film Mark had left at she and Joanne's apartment. Joanne had told her to bring it, she wasn't sure if there were camera stores in heaven.

Collins added Mark's army green messenger bag, and Angel placed his copy of the torah that they had discussed when Angel asked about the purpose of Yom Kippur, and he'd had to look the specifics up (as opposed to calling his mother), on the cold, unfeeling marble. Benny just laid a spare key to the loft down.

As Alexia and Roger walked away, she broke the uncomfortable silence. "I hear there are great restaurants out west."

"Some of the best." The musician looked back at Mimi who was clinging to Benny, again. "How could she?" he asked.

"How could you let her go? You're lucky Roger. You still have her." Alexia questioned, wiping away more tears.

"You just don't know."

"How could we loose Marky?" Roger could see the love and longing in her deep brown eyes.

He wanted to help. "Maybe you'll see why, at least he not in anymore pain. At least now if you try to find who killed him, Mark's death won't be in vain." The words sounded stupid even as they came out of his mouth.

"His death is in vain!" Alexia screamed back, out of nowhere, her voice shattering the serenity of the cemetery. "I can't believe your running away to Santa Fe, I mean, are you insane, there's so much to care about. There's me, there's Mimi!"

"Mimi's got her baggage, too!" Now, Roger was screaming as well.

"So do you!"

"Who are you to tell me what I know, what to do?"

"A friend." A little compassion returned to her voice. "Mark's girlfriend."

"But," he added, angry with Mark for leaving Alexia. She loved him more than anything in the world. "Who was Mark anyway? Mark had you and his work, they say Mark lived for his work," Alexia didn't have to take this, Roger speaking so ill of Mark, so, she began to walk away quickly. Roger followed her, "And Mark was in love you and his work. Mark his in his work."

"From what?" She stopped and spun around to face him, her expression demanded answers.

"You doing the same thing." Roger spat, "You hiding from facing your failure, facing your loneliness, facing the fact you now live a lie. Yes, you live I lie, I'll tell you why! Mark was always preaching not to be numb, when that's how he thrived. He pretended to create and observe when he really detached from feeling alive."

"Perhaps it's because he was the one of you two who was supposed to survive!" Alexia screamed, tears streaming from her eyes. The others watched the terrible argument in horror. Mark would have never wanted his best friend and the love of his life arguing like they were. "Now it's just going to be me after you and Mimi are gone. I'll be in the loft, alone."

"Poor baby." Roger chided.

"Mimi still loves you, are you really jealous, or afraid that Mimi's weak?"

"Mimi did look pale."

"Mimi's gotten thin, Mimi's running out of time, and your running out the door."

"No more, no more, I've got to go." Roger conceded, beginning to walk away.

"Hey!" Alexia screamed at his back, "For someone who's always been let down, who's headed out of town."

"For someone who longs for a community of her own," Roger answered, "Who holding her dead boyfriend's scarf, all alone?" He took a deep breath, trying to calm down as Alexia cried even harder, loosening her grip on Mark's dark blue and gray striped scarf that was in her grasp. Off to Santa Fe for Roger, he mused, thinking of himself in the third person, and Alexia and Mimi we stuck here, in cold New York City. They could leave, but Roger knew they wouldn't. Mimi because she would have to find another dealer somewhere else, but, Alexia wouldn't leave because Mark was here, and would be forever. "I'll call." He said quietly as it began to drizzle fittingly. Roger looked to the sky. "I hate the fall."

Mimi approached him finally, her make-up running down her cheeks, and fresh tears in her eyes that Roger somehow knew weren't being shed for Mark. "You heard?" he asked.

"Every word." Mimi answered. "You don't want baggage without lifetime guarantees, you don't want to watch me die like Alexia had to do with Mark. Well, I just came to say goodbye love, goodbye love, I just came to say goodbye love, goodbye."

Alexia sat down in the freshly disturbed dirt at Mark's grave, and Roger and Mimi instinctively went to comfort her, and heard her say "I just came to say goodbye love, goodbye love, goodbye love, goodbye." She stood, brushing soft brown hair out of her eyes.

Roger realized just then how little time he may have left now that Mark was gone. Mortality had a cruel way of being ironic. It wasn't the one with AIDS that died so young, it was the normal one who had a good life, a great life, spread out before him. Glory, he thought, one blaze of glory, one song to leave behind. That's what I have to find.

Roger couldn't take it anymore. He ran as hard and as fast as he could to the Junker car that the money from his guitar had bought. As he was getting in, he took one last look at his best friend's grave. Mimi and Alexia stood with Angel. Collins, Maureen and Joanne were off by a tree, pretending not to notice the ensuing conversation. Mimi was shaking for another hit, and Alexia reached out to steady her.

"Please don't touch me, understand I'm scared, I need to go away." Mimi said, shaking even more violently. Angel held her.

"I know a place, a clinic," She said.

"A rehab?" Alexia questioned, interrupting Angel.

"Maybe," Mimi pleaded, "Could you?"

"I'll pay." Alexia finally answered.

"Thank you Alexia. Alexia? Alexia?" Mimi began to sound a lot like Roger, and Alexia felt cold water strike her face.

She sat up, still in the hallway outside of Mark's hospital room on the Intensive Care Unit Floor. She took a deep breath before she realized why she had fainted and dreamed what she had dreamed. Mark was dead. The surgeon had come out to tell her that, and she'd fainted.

The surgeon was no longer standing before she and Roger, who looked incredibly calm for just finding out that his best friend was dead. She, on the other hand, was hysterical. She sobbed, and Roger let her cry on his shoulder, a rare compassionante act for the musician. She sobbed and sobbed, "He's gone, oh god, Mark's gone."

Roger laughed sadly, and Alexia's eyes grew wide as she pulled away from him. "Why are you laughing?" she demanded, beating on his chest, "Why are you laughing? The only man I've ever loved is dead, and you're laughing!"

"Alexia, he's not."

"He's not what?" he didn't answer right away, "He's not what?"

"Mark's not dead."

A gasp escaped Alexia. She peered into Mark's room where he no longer lay. The bed was empty. "They brought him back, Alexia."

She was speechless, and confused. "W-w-what?" she stammered.

"He's in emergency surgery now," Roger told her calmly, another rare act on the musician's behalf as Alexia entered the empty room numbly. "He was dead, Alexia. The surgeon was coming out to talk to you, but you took one look at him and just passed out."

"I saw that look on his face that just said 'Excuse me Miss, your boyfriend's dead.'" She answered, and then Alexia remembered the conversation that the surgeon had interrupted. She turned on Roger. "You." She hissed, "This is your fault! This is ALL YOUR FAULT! YOU SHOT MARK!" she screeched.

Roger, suprising, stayed calm this time. He looked at his feet, and spoke softly. "I thought he was gone, too." Roger chocked back tears, to Alexia's surprise. She didn't think that the musician was capable of it. "If you hadn't passed out like that, if I hadn't had to catch you, I think I might have fainted too." He looked up at her, his eyes brimming with tears. "I don't want to lose him, and I know you don't, either."

_How could I have ever suspected Roger? _Alexia thought to herself, _He loves Mark just like I do, but in a different way._ "Let's go sit down somewhere."

----------------

Roger and Alexia made their way to the small cafe on the first floor, and Alexia sat sipping white tea quietly whil Roger stirred his coffee. "We need to find who did this to Marky," she said, "and make them pay." She wiped away tears and offerd her hand in a handshake. "Partners?"

Roger shook her hand, "Partners."


	7. Harder To Breathe

Disclaimer: No, seriously, still don't own it. Or, the lyrics either. Those are from Maroon 5's "Harder to Breathe"

Authoress Note: Don't come after us with torches and pitchforks after this chapter, the next one will be up soon, very soon. Who do you think the "vengeful presence" is?

Chapter Seven: Harder to Breathe

"How long has it been?"

"Three hours."

"How long did they say it was going to take?"

"Roger, I don't remember." Alexia paused, thinking, "But, I think they should be done soon. What time is it?"

"Ten minutes since the last time you asked me, Alexia."

Alexia fiddled with a piece of brown hair that hung in her face. She twisted it around her finger. "Do you call anybody?"

"Maureen and Joanne."

Alexia attempted to stir her tea, but found that her cup was empty. The tea had gotten cold, anyway, and Alexia certainly didn't enjoy drinking lukewarm, too-strong tea out of an environment-killing Styrofoam cup waiting to hear wither or not her boyfriend was still alive. She tossed the cup at a nearby waste basket, and promptly missed.

"Smooth." Roger chided nervously. He then yawned, fingering something in the pocket of his tattered blue jeans that clearly denoted him as a musician. Alexia only noticed because the little silver chain that went from the front pocket to the back jiggled slightly. Alexia got up to attempt to throw the cup away, again.

"We used to drink Stole out of those," Roger said, leaning his head back against the hallway wall and pulled a foot up on the dark, navy blue bench he was sitting on. God, he was exhausted, but sleep wouldn't come, and if it did, it wasn't easy. The last time someone had fallen asleep, Mark had flat lined. "Then you move in and make us use real glasses.

"Sorry for the civilization. Roger, take you AZT."

Roger shuddered. That was Mab, reminding him to take his AZT. But, Mark wasn't here right now, so, Alexia had taken over that responsibility. Roger was almost sure Alexia didn't even realize what she had done, taking the role that used to, Roger shook his head, still does belong to Mark, as soon as he wakes up.

If he wakes up.

They sat later at the Life Cafe, and Roger was digging in his pocket. "Roger, what are you doing?" Alexia finally asked, not being able to stand it anymore. The musician just averted his eyes.

"I don't know if I can...uh, Mark might not want me too-" he cut himself off, and pulled a tiny black velvet ring box out of his pocket. He thrust it at Alexia, and Roger spoke quickly and nervously. "Mark told me to keep it for him until he was ready to give it to you. He was going to hide it in his camera bag, or somewhere, but was afraid you would find it. I'm afraid he may never BE able to give it to you, so, just, open it."

Alexia didn't want to open the box. She could guess what it was and suddenly began crying again. She flipped the box lid open, and a beautiful diamond solitaire stared back at her. It was a rectangular marquise and the platinum setting held the diamond in just so that it looked like a film cell like the ones that Mark used in his camera. She pulled the ring out, and noticed an inscription on the inside of the band. It read:

_525,600 minutes, Mark and Alexia, A Season of Love_

Alexia shivered as she slid the ring on her finger, wishing that it was Mark, _her Mark_, doing it, down on one knee, asking her to be his, to take him as her husband. She looked at the gorgeous ring, and began balling. A few people in the restaurant turned and looked, concerned as strangers and tourists often do, as Roger immediately got up and then sat down next to her. She cried on his shoulder, shaking. "Let's go." Roger said softly. Alexia paid the check, and they left, stalking across the parking lot. Alexia ran ahead of Roger with her car keys out and dove in the passenger side door of her blue Mercedes, after she'd unlocked it. She reached across and unlocked the driver's side door. Roger got in, Alexia handed him the keys, and they drove back to St. Vincent's without a word, wondering what news they would get when they got there.

"ROGER! STOP! YOU'LL KILL HIM!"

"SO? HE DID IT ALEXIA! I KNOW IT! BENNY SHOT MARK!"

"NO I DIDN'T...ow!" Roger punched Benny again, sending the Landlord spiraling to the ground clumsily. Roger dove at him.

"ROGER!" Alexia shouted again, "**STOP IT!** THE LAST THING WE NEED IT THIS ASS PRESSING CHARGES AND YOU GOING TO PRISION!" Roger had raised his fist to punch Benny again, but Alexia grabbed it mid-swing. "There, calm down."

The musician climbed off of Benny, who sat up and held his head back to stop the bleeding from his probably broken nose. "I didn't shoot Mark! I swear! I don't even know how to fire a gun!"

Alexia wasn't so sure that she believed him.

_Does it kill?_

_Does it burn?_

_Is it painful to learn that it's me that has all the control?_

The cost was clear, not a soul in sight. Not a doctor, not a surgeon, not a nurse. No one would see.

The vengeful presence slipped into the semi-darkness of the hospital room. He was out of surgery. The presence immediately eyed the little white plug attached to the ventilator that was keeping Mark Cohen alive.

_Does it thrill?_

_Does it sting?_

_When you feel what I bring,_

_And you wish that you had me to hold! _

Five long fingers wrapped around that very same plug and pulled. The little green light on the machine went out.

_When it gets cold outside and you've got nobody to love,_

_You'll understand what I mean when I say there's no way I'm gonna give up._

The vengeful presence stood in the doorway and watched for a moment as Mark struggled to breathe, his chest taking longer and longer to rise and fall each time until it ceased to rise at all.

_And like a little girl cries in the face of a monster that lives in her dreams,_

_Is there anyone out there, 'cause it's getting harder and harder to breathe._


	8. Why

Disclaimer: You guessed it. RENT doesn't belong to any of us, it's Jonathan Larson's. So are the lyrics from tick,tick...BOOM! (Except for the first set, those belong to BBMAK, from the song "Ghost of You and Me")

Authoress Note: Nobody has any idea who the 'vengeful presence' is? The chocolate thing about West Africa is true, and I'm starting a boycott of the companies who harvest their cocoa like that. If you wish to help the cause, let me know.

This is AU.

Chapter Eight: Why

Alexia was fully aware of Benny's presence behind she and Roger. She didn't know what to think. Oh, Benny was capable of it, defiantly, sure, but something just told her that he didn't shoot Mark. Roger thought otherwise.

"He's behind us, isn't he?" the musician whispered to Alexia, not daring to look over his shoulder.

Roger held the door for Alexia and she looked behind her. Roger let the door go in Benny's face. Benny didn't say anything, after all, he wasn't really in th position to. The landlord just calmly opened the door, following the musician silently.

ALEXIA'S POV

I took a deep breath and sighed, shaking my head. Damn, I wanted to think that Benny did it, I really did. He was someone with motive, as the cops say. He was some one with the means. Benny probably owned a gun, even though he claimed to not know how to use one, or if he didn't he could **certainly** afford to hire someone to do it. (I shook my head again, I could afford that, too. I couldn't help but wonder if anyone else but Roger had their thoughts about my possible guilt. But, then again, it was clear how much I loved Mark, wasn't it? Roger was just upset, like I was. If we had been calmer, we would have realized right away that neither of us could shoot Mark.) I wanted to think that Benny did it, not because he had been on not so great terms with us lately, but because he was someone to blame. If it wasn't Benny, then my fiancée was dying and there was no one I **could **blame. There was no one I could shriek at, no one I could hurt to try and make it better, to justify it. To make myself feel like I was actually **doing **something to help. I wasn't a surgeon or a doctor, hell, I wasn't even a nurse or a paramedic. The only medical training I had was the CPR/ Babysitting license I got when I was fourteen, and still carried with me in my wallet after all these years. I couldn't do anything to save Mark other than hold his hand, stay by him at night, and find who did this to him. Find who did this to him, who attempted to take his life, and who may still get their way, and settle the score. With Roger's help, we could change things, find that person, that animal, no, that **monster**, and show that person who is in charge.

I wanted it to be Benny, because if it wasn't, I had failed. I hadn't found anyone, or anything.

Alexia caught sight of her reflection in the shining glass door of the hospital gift shop. She stopped for a second, her hand on the door handle, but then hastily entered anyway. When Angel got there, she would certainly take Alexia into the ladies room and fix her make-up and hair. Angel did things like that. Little things that could just turn the rest of your day around, or, if your day had been going as badly as Alexia's had, it could make you at least attempt to smile just a little bit. Mark was going to be fine, he had to be. Mark had to be alright, so Alexia would attempt to smile when Angel tried to get her to. He and Alexia would get married and buy a penthouse, or, if Mark protested enough, a regular apartment, somewhere close to the loft, still in the East Village, and they would adopt a dog. Alexia **_really_** didn't like kids, neither did Mark. They didn't like kids to the point of almost hating the little snot balls, as they called them when they heard a kid crying in a crowded movie theater, or when Alexia was on stage and a little kid was crying, distracting she and her fellow cast mates, and also forcing Mark to cut the sound, if he was filming, and dub over with a voice over.

She pulled the glass door open and steeped into the little shop that smelled heavily of roses and chocolate. Alexia scoffed, she and Mark hadn't eaten chocolate since they found out about the child slavery ring that was run in West Africa to harvest the cocoa beans to make the chocolate that so many people inhaled like oxygen everyday. They didn't like little kids, but no one deserved a fate like that, certainly not children. She and the other girls had even boughten t-shirts that were just a little too tight that had originally said "Drop the Chocolate and Nobody Gets Hurt". They had crossed out the D in drop and replaced it with a bright red S, so that the shirts now read: "Stop the Chocolate and Nobody Gets Hurt". Maureen had written a protest piece about it, she and Alexia led, and Angel, Joanne and Mimi sang back-up. Roger played back-ground guitar, Collins and Angel were on the drums. Mark filmed, and the footage was on Buzzline the next night with the headline: Chocolate Kills Global Society. Alexia's fathers office was flooded with calls the next morning. People were screaming at the Democratic Senator, some in ecstatic support for the cause, some in vivacious opposition.

"Can I help you?" A cheery red-haired woman asked from behind the counter. She smiled pleasantly at Alexia.

Alexia ran her hand over a blue pillar candle for sale on a nearby shelf. "Do they allow these in patient rooms? I mean, can they be lit in a patient area?"

"I can't see any reason why not." The woman answered, and Alexia sat the candle on the counter, digging in her purse for her wallet. "Will this be all?"

Alexia nodded, never looking up.

"Who's in the hospital, can I ask?" The clerk asked her while turning the volume on the overhead television down so low that it was barley audible, making Alexia finally pay attention. "I don't mean to pry, but maybe I could help you pick something out, something that could go with the candle, something a little more...personal."

Alexia looked up at the woman, whom she realized was close to her mother's age. Streaks of gray ran through her fiery red hair, and slight crow's feet edged around her kind eyes. Alexia really didn't want to reveal **anything **to the total and complete stranger, but something in her told her to. "It's my boyfriend, uh" she remembered the diamond ring on her finger, "fiancée."

"Oh, honey, I'm sorry to hear that. Is he going to be alright?"

"We're not sure."

The clerk looked at Alexia sympathetically. "Well, I'll add you both to my prayers tonight."

Alexia shivered. A stranger, a person she had never met before, had just somewhat renewed her faith in mankind. "Thank-you." was all Alexia could think to say, then she payed for the candle and left the little gift shop, jingling the little bell hanging on the door as she did.

The P.A. Buzzed on overhead as Alexia, Benny and Roger restarted toward the elevator to return to Mark's bedside. "Code Red, room 508, Code Red, Cardiac Arrest." The female voice said mechanically.

"Shit!" Alexia shouted, "Roger, 508, that's Mark!"

The elevators loomed ahead, slow, too slow. They had to get to Mark's room _fast_. The door to the stairwell beckoned beside them.

Roger reached for the door handle, but he and Alexia were practically knocked out of the way by Benny, who frantically rushed ahead, followed intently by the footfalls of a pair of high-heels, and a pair of boots.

Second Floor.

Third Floor.

Fourth Floor.

Benny flung open the brushed steel door that led from the stairwell on to the fifth floor, the Intensive Care Unit. He had to apologize to Mark, he had to beg his forgiveness before it was too late. Mark was his oldest friend, and his truest friend, even after what had happened since Benny had married Alison, and alienated his friends. He could hear Alexia and Roger following behind him, shouting, cursing, as he came to the doorway of Mark's room where an entire team of nurses and doctors and surgeons hastily bustled about, bumping into each other occasionally. Mark lay, still, pale and unmoving, not breathing. A surgeon shouted "CLEAR!" and put two off-white paddles to Mark's chest and fired the defibrillator. Benny watched in horror as Mark jolted ever so slightly, but didn't respond to the shock, the harsh wail of the flat line on the heart monitor persistent.

"No, no, no..." Benny backed out of the doorway just as Alexia and Roger approached.

_I hear the voices call,_

_Following footsteps down the hall,_

_Trying to save what's left of my heart and soul._

It couldn't be happening again. They'd been through this already, it wasn't supposed to happen again. Alexia heard herself begin to scream as Roger attempted to pull her out of the doorway and out of the way of the doctors working to save Mark's life. She fought her way out of the musician's grasp and they shocked Mark again, to no avail.

And again.

And again.

The same nurse that had shoved Alexia out of the way the first time this had happened now slammed the door in her face and pulled the venetian blinds on the window so that Alexia, Roger and Benny couldn't tell what was going on inside Mark's room. Alexia hated her for that. Mark was as still as death, and Alexia couldn't do anything to help.

_Love so still,_

_Can you feel it?_

_What more can you want?_

_Is this Real Life?_

It wasn't real, and it wasn't happening.

Benny slid down the hallway wall, his face buried in his hands. "No...no...not Mark. No." The Landlord began to sob, as did Alexia.

Roger clenched his fists and responded the only way that seemed natural. He drew back and punched the wall in anger. He hit it again and again, pretending it was who ever did this to Mark, to his best friend.

The following few minutes seemed to stretch on forever. Nothing could be seen or heard from Mark's room, and the three in the hallway now sat, just simply crying. Roger had finally put his fist through the wall, causing quite a hole, and Alexia had subdued her screaming.

"Mark and I've been best friends since we were kids." Roger said abruptly. "When I was nine, Mark and I entered a talent show down at the Y. When we went to rehearse by some stairs, Mark said he couldn't sing, I said no one cares."

"What did you sing?" Alexia asked, looking up at Roger, her eyes reddened from crying.

"We sang Yellow Bird, and Let's Go Fly A Kite, over and over and over until we got it right." He paused, taking a deep breath. "And I thought, hey, what a way to spend a day. I make a vow, right here and now that I'm gonna spend my time this way."

Roger sat down next to Benny. "Mark and I were roommates at Brown. We really didn't say anything to each other, we just kind of, you know, co-habituated. I would bring a girl home, and Mark would go out and film and not ask any questions. But, when I was nineteen, Mark and I got parts in West Side Story. Three o'clock, we went to rehearse in the auditorium. Mark was the lead, I played Doc who didn't sing, which was fine with me. He sang "Got a Rocket in Your Pocket" and "The Jets are gonna have their way tonight" over and over and over until he got it right. That was Mark, the artist. Mark, the lead. Mark, the hard worker. Mark's the best friend I have."

Alexia, sensing that it was her turn, began her story of how she and Mark met.

ALEXIA'S POV

"You were there Roger, remember?" I asked.

"I can't say that I do." he answered, and I took a deep breath, beginning my story.

FLASHBACK

_I knocked softly on the blue gymnasium style double doors. No one answered, so I knocked harder. No one answered again, so I just stepped in. A woman in an awesome multi-colored dress and pink platform heels rushed forward to meet me. "Is this LifeSupport?" I asked her. _

Her expression changed to one of sadness. "Yes honey, are you here for the meeting?"

Oh god, I thought, she thinks I have AIDS. "No, no, I don't have AIDS, I'm Alexia Hemmingway, the new counselor."

The woman smiled and clapped her hands together. "Alexia! Wonderful! I'm Angel! We spoke on the phone!" She hugged me like we'd known each other for years. It felt that way, and I knew that I'd made a friend. "Let me go introduce you to the group."

Angel took me by the hand and led me through another set of double doors into an auditorium where about ten people sat in folding chairs that were arranged in a circle. A few stuck out. There was a girl who looked a lot younger than the rest of them in black leather boots and a mini-skirt, a long-haired rocker type looking tough in his worn leather jacket and jeans with the knees ripped out. A tall African-American man sat next to the rocker and blew a kiss to Angel as she and I entered the room. I then saw a handsome blond guy with the most striking blue eyes I had ever seen standing away from the group, half of his face hidden by an old movie camera, filming our every move. We made eye contact, and he moved the camera aside. My heart did a somersault, then it settled back down, saddened. We were at a LifeSupport Meeting. I was probably the only one in the entire room that didn't have AIDS. No one else looked up, they just kept singing their creed:

"There's only us,  
There's only this,  
Forget regret,  
Or life is yours to miss."

Angel held up her hands to stop them. They obeyed and Angel cleared her throat. "Everyone, this" she gestured to me " is our new counselor."

I stepped forward and tripped ever so slightly over a camera case. "Sorry, excuse me, oops."

"And you are?" The rocker demanded rudely.

"Oh, I'm not, I'm just here to, I don't have," I stopped myself from rambling any further. "I'm Alexia. Alexia Hemmingway." I couldn't keep my eyes of the filmmaker. It was strange, like nothing I'd never felt before. I could hardly think straight.

"And do you have AIDS?" the rocker looked like he wanted to throw me out, like I was an intruder.

I should have seen that coming. I looked at Angel who just looked back. "No, I don't." I looked at my feet. Here it comes.

"Then how can you help us?" the rocker turned away, and said to the African-American man under his breath. "Hypocrite."

The filmmaker heard it, and sat his camera, which he carried with such an ease, it looked like he'd been doing it his entire life, down and crossed over to us. "Roger!" he turned to Angel and I. "I'm sorry." he said to me, "He can be a real jerk sometimes." he extended his hand to shake mine. "I'm Mark. Mark Cohen."

When I shook his hand, that strange feeling intensified about a thousand fold. Stop it, I told myself, he's off-limits. "Nice to meet you Mark. I'm Alexia."

Angel smiled at me, like she could read my mind. When I think back on, I'm convinced that she probably could. Mark then introduced the rest of the group. "That's Roger Davis, Tom Collins-"

"Call me Collins." The African-American man said, waving, "nice to meet you."

Angel leaned over to me and whispered in my ear, "That's my boyfriend." I smiled at her and remembered that I didn't have a boyfriend at the moment. Too bad that Mark had AIDS, he seemed perfect.

"That's Mimi," he continued, the girl in the mini-skirt waved and smiled poiletly before smacking Roger, the rocker on the arm. Mark went on to introduce the rest of the group, and I noticed that he looked slightly less healthy than the rest, the closest to losing the battle, the weakest. I felt like crying, just being Myself, the only truly healthy one in the whole group, of course.

When the meeting was over, Angel showed me my office. It was tiny, and cramped, but I loved it at first sight. "All yours." She said, waved, and retreated to go find Collins, her boyfriend. I sat down at my desk and put a picture of my cat, Lucy, up. After a while, there was a knock on my door.

"Come in." I called as the lights flickered. I looked up.

It was Mark, the handsome filmmaker. "It does that in here." he said. "Actullay, it does that in the entire East Village." he laughed a little. "Look, I'm sorry to bother you, I just came by to apologize for my roommates behavior," Ah, they lived together. That explained it. Now, he was REALLY off limits if the whole AIDS thing hadn't deterred me already. "Roger can be a real moron sometimes."

"It's fine, really. I should have expected something like that to happen." I paused, "But, it seems like you love him, anyway."

Mark's blue eyes grew wide. "Oh, no, we're not-" he laughed. "We're not lovers! I'm straight. He's more like my brother, actually."

Well, I'll ask him out if he's not positive, either, I though to myself knowing that with my luck with love, that would never happen. The only picture on my desk was of my cat, for god's sake. "Would you like to sit down?' I offered, motioning to the chair on the other side of my desk.

"Sure, thanks." he sat down, his camera bag in his lap. "Are you new to the city?" he asked.

"God no!" I answered. "I grew up just outside of the city, but I went to NYU."

"I went to Brown."

That was strange. "My cousin's husband went there." I answered, thinking not fondly of Alison and her new husband, Benjamin Coffin the Third. He seemed alright, but she was Alison.

"Do you know his name, maybe I know him." Mark asked me.

"Benjamin Coffin."

Mark gasped. "Benny! I was his roommate! Hey, tell him you met me, he'll laugh."

"Why?" I goaded, "We're you the 'wild men' of the campus?"

"Not us, no, but some pretty crazy things happened. Bad choices."

"Oh," I didn't really want to pry, but I was a counselor now, I had to. "Is that how you got AIDS?"

Mark was speechless for a minute. "You thought I was positive? No, no way, ask Angel. I'm just here to support my friends." He paused for a second, now I was the one that was speechless. Could I really be this lucky? "I don't know if you have plans tonight, but my friend Maureen is doing a protest piece at the eleventh street lot's performance spot, would you, uh," I could tell he was nervous, "like to go with us?"

I smiled broadly. "Of course. Where should we meet?"

END FLASHBACK

I found myself crying hysterically at the end of my story. Roger placed a comforting hand on my shoulder, just as the surgeon came out of Mark's room. "We got him back." he said, "But, Ms. Hemmingway, can I speak with you for a minute."

I got up and followed the surgeon to the end of the hallway, just out of earshot of Roger and Benny.

"Ms. Hemmingway, would you happen to know what the standards for care of a comatose patient are?" A patient? That's all Mark was to this guy? Just another patient? How could the man that meant my entire world to me be just another patient? I shook my head no. "There are two of them: Crash Rate and Time." I furrowed my eyebrows. What in the hell was this man blabbering about? I didn't have time for his ramblings, I had to see Mark. "If a patient doesn't wake-up in seventy-two hours after they've lapsed into their coma, or the patient crashes more than four times-"

"Wait," I interrupted, "Mark's only crashed twice."

"No, not actually, he crashed twice on the operating table when he was initially brought in."

"I'm sorry?" I asked, stunned, "Why wasn't I told this earlier?"

"We didn't see any revelance."

No revelance? No REVELANCE? "I don't really care what you think is revelant, Doctor-" I looked for the first time at his name tag "-McKenna. And now, I am going to see my fiancée!"

And with that, I took off, and entered Mark's room.


	9. Is This Real Life?

Disclaimer: No way.

Authoress Note: the majority of this chapter (The Roger's POV) was written by Harper's Pixie, and the Alexia's POV was written by VivaLaVieBohemeA.

ROGER'S POV

I'm lost in thought. Anger and sadness are fighting for possession of my body and mind. I can't look at Benny without wanting to lash out and I can't dare to take a look at Alexia's sad face without wanting to just curl up and cry. I'm staring at some overly priced gift with suddenly the overhead speakers pull me from my thoughts.

"Code Red, room 508, Code Red, Cardiac Arrest."

With those words I can feel my chest clinch up.

"Shit!" Alexia shouts, "Roger, 508, that's Mark!"

"Oh god," I whisper before my throat shuts and I barrel towards the elevators. I push the button and when the elevator doesn't immediately open I head for the stairwell. As I reach the door, Benny shoves me out of the way. I want to be pissed at him, but then Alexia grabs my wrist and tugs me with her. I push away my anger. All I can think about is Mark. I can't lose him, WE can't lose him.

I run up flight after flight of stairs and finally we reach Mark's floor, Benny a few feet ahead of us. Benny reaches Mark's room and stops dead in his tracks. The look on his face makes my heart stop. Alexia and I stop on either side of him. My eyes go wide as I watch the doctors and nurses shock Mark over…and over…and over. He's not coming back. Why isn't he coming back! I can't stop staring at Mark as his lifeless body jumps with every volt. Alexia's screams break my trance. Oh God, she shouldn't see this. I wrap my arms around her middle and try to pull her away from the door.

"Alexia, come on, you've gotta let them work," I try to whisper in her ear.

She pulls her way out of my arms and heads back towards the door only to have the same nurse from before slam it shut in her face. I can feel that door slamming through my entire body. I back away from the door and hear someone breaking down. I'm amazed when I realize it is Benny, he's sitting on the floor, knees pulled up to his chest as he begins to sob. Alexia is soon to follow.

I clench my fists. I can feel the anger building up in me. Why Mark! He's never done anything wrong. He's spent nearly all of his adult life helping people, helping me out of my stupid mistakes. If anyone deserves this, I do! I'm the screw up, not him! I clench my jaw as I turn towards the wall. In my mind I see the faceless person who put Mark in that hospital bed and I punch the wall over and over and over until it feels like my knuckles are broken. Still I punch, a feral scream escaping between my clenched teeth. I'm not satisfied until my fist goes completely through the wall. I'm breathing heavily now, my entire body has gone numb. I look at the hole and back down to my scraped and bloodied knuckles. I'm amazed that no one stopped me, but also relieved as well. I needed this. My head isn't as cloudy now. My thoughts are clearer and I know where I need to be. I lean my head against the wall and begin to talk, to reminisce about the good times. When I'm finished I sit down next to Benny, all three of us continue staring at the door leading into Mark's room.

It seems like we've talked forever. Alexia is just finishing her story of how she and Mark met when the tears return; I place a hand on her shoulder and try to calm her. Suddenly the surgeon comes out of the room and the three of us are on our feet in seconds. We all wipe at our tear filled eyes and hold our breath.

"We got him back." he says and for the first time since that code was called, I truly breathe.

"But, Ms. Hemmingway, can I speak with you for a minute." He continues and I nod, motioning her on. I need to talk to Benny anyway.

I turn to him, he's still silently crying. I fold my arms and do something I haven't done to him in years, I apologize.

"Look, Benny, I'm sorry about before."

He puts a hand up to stop me, "No, I deserved it. I've not been the greatest person in the past couple of years. I've not been there when you guys needed me."

"Yeah, but that gave me no right to accuse you of doing that to Mark."

"You were scared. We all are. People do irrational things when they're scared."

"Yeah but I let my temper get the best of me."

Benny puts a hand on my shoulder and smiles, "Look, let's just call it a truce and try to figure out who really did this to Mark, ok?" he pauses and looks at the hole in the wall and back to my hand. "And from the looks of it, you need to get that wrapped up."

I go to say that I'm fine but he interrupts, "No, you can't fight off infections like you used to and I know Alexia will want you at tip top shape. We've got a shooter to catch."

I turn back and watch as a distraught Alexia rushes into Mark's room. I clench my eyes shut, once more fighting off tears. Who would do such a thing to Mark? I shake my head and look back at Benny, "Ok, thanks."

"No problems, that's what friends are for."

I look at him and see the man I hadn't seen since before Alison. I smile and say, "Yeah, that's what friends are for."

ALEXIA'S POV

Oh god, he looked even worse than before.

I rushed my fiancee's bedside and took his pallid hand in mine. His breathing was steady and shaky. Not for the first time, I wanted to hurt who did this to Mark. I wanted them to be afraid and feel a fraction of what the rest of us were going through.

Fresh tears spring to my eyes as a sad smile crosses my lips and I find myself laughed even more sadly. "Mark, honey, you've gotta stop doing this to us." I squeezed his hand, and wanted nothing more in the world than for him to squeeze my hand back. "Mark, please. Don't die on us anymore, or ever." I paused, listening to Roger's conversation with Benny. "Oh my god Mark, you've started a revolution. Even Benny's going to help find who did this to you."

And with that, I kissed my fiancee softly on the lips and left his hospital room.


	10. No Moon

Disclaimer: No way. The lyrics are from _Titanic the Musical_.

Authoress Note: We're really glad you guys liked the last chapter, we were both kind of nervous about our respective parts. Thanks: ) Sorry it's so short...short and quick, but more will be up either tonight or tomorrow: )

Chapter 10: No Moon

"_No moon,_

_No wind,_

_Nothing to spy things by._

_No wave,_

_No swell,_

_No line where sea meets sky._

_Stillness,_

_Darkness,_

_Can't see a thing says I._

_No reflection,_

_Not a shadow,_

_Not a glint of light meets the eye."_

_"So, how are you holding up?" Mark asked me._

_"How am I holding up?" I had to laugh a little. "Are you kidding me? I should be asking you that."_

_"Well, you know how I'm holding up. Dr. McKenna told you." Mark jammed his hands in his pockets and stared at me with those beautiful blue eyes. "The same as every other comatose patient." He began speaking in a manner that was obviously in mocking of his attending. "If he doesn't wake up within seventy-two hours of when he was injured, he probably won't wake up. If he crashes again, we probably won't be able to get him back. Yada Yada Yada, you know the drill."_

_"Mark, honey," I said, meeting his gaze, "If you die on me, I'll find you and kill you again myself." I chuckled, putting my arms around his neck. He put his arms around my waist and pulled me closer to him. It felt good to be in his arms again. It felt right._

_It felt perfect._

_Mark saw the diamond on my finger. "Roger spilled the beans?" He asked, smiling, and showing off his dimples._

_"Yeah, he did. Mark, I do."_

_"I knew you would." he paused. "Alexia?"_

_"Yeah?" I answered, kissing him lightly._

_"Alexia, listen to me." he began, his blue eyes looking straight through me. "If I don't wake up-"_

_"Mark, don't talk like that!" I said, somewhat shocked. How could he think that, ever?_

_"Just, listen to me. If I don't wake up, you've got to move on."_

_I swallowed hard. "No." I said flatly. "Mark, I could never get over you. Ever."_

_"Just, do it for me?" He kept going. "Even if I don't make it, I want you to be happy." I didn't know whither to slap him or kiss him again. "Just, be happy Alexia. Don't live in the past like Roger. Before he met Mimi he swore that he would never get over April, and he wasn't happy, he wasn't alive. Live your life, win your Tonys," he chuckled, "Save the world, you know, boycott chocolate, save the whales."_

_I suddenly felt like a child again. "But, Mark, you're not..." I had to pause as I began crying. "Your not going to leave me, to leave **us**, are you? Is this good-bye? Are you dying, like for good Mark?" I began shaking slightly, hot tears running down my cheeks. Oh god, please, don't let this be goodbye._

_"I don't know Alexia." Mark answered, holding on to me like there was no tomorrow. I leaned in and kissed him again, praying that it wasn't the last time I would. His lips were so cold..._

_"Mark, did you see who shot you?" I asked, biting my lip._

_"Yeah."_

_"Who?" I asked._

_"Well, I was in Mimi's bedroom," he began as I ran my fingers through his blond hair, "and-"_

"ALEXIA!"

I sat straight up in bed, still holding on to my teddy bear as Roger's voice broke the silence in the loft. I shook the sleep out of my eyes and called out "What?"

"Are you alright? I can hear you crying." Roger said, appearing in Mark and I's bedroom doorway. his arms crossed.

"I'm fine." I answered, wiping at my eyes. Sure enough tears were present. "I was asleep."

A silence fell in the loft.

"I cried in my sleep after April." Roger said, finally as I padded out of bed, past him and into the 'kitchen' to make myself some tea.

"What?"

"After we found April in the bathroom, when I finally could sleep, I'd wake up crying." Roger said, averting his eyes.

No way. Roger admitting to crying over April? Well, I saw him cry over Mark, and he's his best friend and I'm his best friend's fiancee, so I guess there are no secrets anymore. "You were dreaming about him, weren't you?" He asked.

"Yeah." I answered, not wanting to reveal any more information. But, my words betrayed me (not for the first time). I found myself telling Roger everything. "But," I added at the end. "It's not the same thing as you with April, Roger. Mark isn't dead."

"But he's not here with you."

He had a point.

The microwave dinged, and I silently offered Roger a mug of tea for himself. He shook his head. muttered a "thanks anyway" and poured himself a cup of coffee. We finished our mugs in relative silence, said goodnight, and I went back to bed.

You know, when I laid back down on my side of the bed, looking out the window and realizing that the moon that had been full the night before had disappeared, leaving a void, I realized something. You would think that someone who'd been on her own so long, who'd revered her single status at one time (before she met the love of her life), would be able to get used to waking up in an empty bed pretty quickly, wouldn't feel that void like the one the moon had left in the sky.

Not so.

I would never get used to it. I couldn't stand not waking up, feeling Mark's chest rise and fall next to me. I couldn't stand waking up and not being in his arms. I couldn't **stand** waking up alone, and not having the first thing I do in the morning be kiss the man I love.


	11. It Can't Be Possible

Disclaimer: No, really, it's Jonathan Larson's.

Authoress Note: Oh my, three chapters in three days! Woo-hoo! I owe it to you guys for not updating in so long!

&&&&

BENNY'S POV

Alexia's crying racked my brain, each sob breaking my heart a little bit more. I couldn't stand it. I just couldn't take it anymore.

Mark really was my best friend. I could help but realize that maybe I'd thrown that all away these last couple of years, being the way that I had. Demanding the rent...turning off their power and heat on Christmas Eve, almost not coming to Alexia's dinner party...I'd been terrible.

All of those crazy things we did at Brown, Mark and I, sprang into my mind. The time he got pantsied in the dorm hallway and pretty much the entire junior class saw his tweety bird boxers, or the time that we hid out under the tables when the food fight between the football players and the basketball jocks broke out in the chuckery.

God, where did that Benny go? The Benny that cared about someone other than himself? The Benny that had **friends**?

Alexia's crying reminded me that I may never get the chance to apologize to Mark, and I hated myself for it.

I was brought out of my reverie by the answering machine yelling in my ear:

"SPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!"

ALEXIA'S POV

_"Mark, come on, and let me sleep." I grumbled, rubbing my eyes and grabbing my glasses from my nightstand._

_"Alexia, I have to tell you who did it." Mark said, "It was-"_

"SPEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEAK!"

Before I realized what I was doing, I was on my feet and running out of my bedroom, toward the phone. I almost dropped it trying to answer. "Hello?"

Roger dashed out, too, and Benny sat up from his position on the couch that couldn't have been too awful comfortable. "Who is it?" They both asked.

"Alexia, sweetie, it's Angel-"

"And Collins!" I heard from the background.

"Angel?" I asked, rubbing the sleep from my eyes. "Do you know what time it is?"

"Do you?" She asked.

"Like three-thirty in the morning?"

"Look at a clock, chica."

I turned and noticed that I had been wrong. It was ten o'clock in the morning. How had I gotten eight hours of sleep with all that's been going on? How had I gotten _any_ sleep with all that's been going on? "Oh," I said. "It's ten." I should have been out of here an hour ago and on my way to see Mark. I should have been there by now. Maybe something had changed and Dr. McKenna had forgotten to call. "Angie, I've gotta go get showered."

"Well, give the phone to Roger, 'Kay Hon?" Angel asked.

I nodded (even though Angel couldn't see me) and handed the phone toward Roger, motioning to the bathroom and mouthing 'I'm going to go shower.' He nodded and I turned on my heel and headed toward the bathroom.

&&&&

"Angel, we need to talk." Roger said as son as he heard the door click, signaling that Alexia was safely behind the bathroom door and out of earshot.

"What's up honey?" Angel asked. "Did something change with Mark?"

"No, no," Roger answered quickly, realizing how cryptic he must have sounded. "Nothings changed, at least, nothing that we're aware of. And, I'm sure if something **had **changed, someone from the hospital would have called. Alexia practically threatened to drag the nurse over the counter at the nurses' station by her scrub collar if we weren't contacted as soon as something changed."

Angel giggled. "Listen Roger, honey, Collins and I are coming over. Don't leave without us."

&&&&

ALEXIA'S POV

The hot water felt good on my shoulders, beating down like a summer's rain. I may have slept eight hours, but I obviously didn't sleep well. I woke up stiff when I heard the answering machine. As I surmised before, I had slept too long, too. I usually can only sleep eight hours and not wake up groggy. Any longer, and I am **not **a happy camper.

I reached for my shampoo, the Aveda shampoo in the taupe bottle that Mark constantly made fun of. "It's all natural Alexia," he'd tease, "So, you can use this stuff but still wonder why Collins insists on tofu turkey at Thanksgiving?"

I laughed a little as I remembered that conversation. After Mark had said that, I aimed the shampoo at his face and squeezed it together quite forcefully.

"Alexia!" Mark had shouted, wiping the shampoo off of his glasses as I took off, tearing out of the bathroom, laughing whole-heartedly. I felt even better when I heard Mark laughing as well. "Get back here!" He called, catching up with me in front of the couch. He put his arms around my waist, and we both toppled to the floor, crying we were laughing so hard. "You're psychotic." He chided playfully. "Why'd you run?"

"Because you were chasing me!" I replied, turning to kiss him lightly. "Yech, my shampoo tastes terrible!" I chided back, wiping a streak of the gelatinous wash away from his lips.

"You're losing your towel." Mark said, nodding in my general direction. I set myself to the task of fixing it.

Right at that moment, Joanne slid the steel door to the loft open and walked in. I opened my mouth to explain, but she stopped me. "You know what Alexia, I don't want to know. It's fine, really, I didn't see anything." And with that, she stalked into Mimi's room, a manila folder from her law office in her hands, probably pertaining to Mimi's rehab.

Mark and I just looked at each other for a moment, and then we both cracked up. "What did she think we were doing?" I asked between giggles.

"I'm afraid to ask." Mark replied.

As I stepped out of the shower, I marveled at the memories that anything and everything in the loft held. A shampoo bottle. The same shampoo bottle that I would use everyday until it was empty, and then I'd throw it away and buy a new one, no strings attached. But, maybe the saying was true, that one about never realizing what you had until it was gone.

Well, alright, it wasn't true. I knew I had Mark, I knew how much we loved each other, I **knew** that we were meant to be, that he was the one. But when he wasn't there to be with, to hold, to kiss, I realized that without him, life would most certainly suck.

&&&&

The door of the loft slid back, revealing Collins and Angel, who was glamorized to the hilt in a rhinestone chocker and acid green ensemble. She leaned against Collins with a warm confidence that was painfully apparent as the professor slid his arm around Angel's waist and she giggled.

Alexia, as she emerged from the room that she and Mark shared wearing Mark's dark blue and gray scarf slung under the collar of her shocking pink trench coat that fell just above mid-calf, wanted to hate them for their happiness. Happiness that she and Mark might never share again. She shook her head slightly. _Thanks for sharing, _Alexia thought to herself, _We'll be doing that soon. I find whoever shot him, and Mark **will **wake up._

Alexia didn't know whom she was trying to convince, herself or some high power.

"Alexia, chica!" Angel cried, pulling her friend into a much-needed bear hug. "What's up?"

Out of nowhere, just when she thought she'd finally managed to get her emotions under some kind of control, Alexia began sobbing again. Don't people ever just run out of tears? "Oh god Angie," she showed Angel her engagement ring. "Roger said that Mark was going to propose!"

Angel patted her friend's back. "I helped him pick that ring chica."

Alexia just began sobbing harder, almost ignoring Angel's comment. "And we ran into Benny when we were going back to Mark. Roger started beating him up, and then I stopped him and we all went back inside and they called a code while we were in the gift shop and it was Mark, Angel, it was Mark again!" She bit her lip for a second, trying to pull some shards of herself together. "Whoever shot him unplugged his ventilator. Angel, they tried to kill him again." Alexia finished, plopping down on the couch.

Collins giggled a little bit, and Alexia gave him a look that was an odd mixture of fear, loathing and curiosity, as the professor sat down at the breakfast table, in Mark's usual chair. Alexia felt her fingernails dig into the palms of her hands as her hands drew into fists at her sides. What was Collins so happy about? She'd just told he and Angel that Mark had flat lined yet again, and there Collins was, giggling.

_Oh my god._ She thought, thinking what she had before thought was unthinkable. _It wasn't Roger or I, of course, and I know it wasn't Benny, but, oh my god..._

&&&&

Roger nervously tapped his foot as he sat down across from Collins at the breakfast table. He could tell from the look on Alexia's face that they had both had the same thought at almost the same time. Roger had gotten famously talented at reading Alexia's facial expressions over the last twenty-...he looked at the nearby wall clock...twenty-seven hours. She could go from incomprehensibly distraught to reverent to dangerously hostile in a matter of seconds, and her expressions gave away her every thought. Roger surmised that it had something to do with her being an actress. She just wasn't trained to hide her emotions. Subconsciously, something told her to let the world see exactly what she was feeling when she was feeling it.

_Whoa,_ the musician thought as the picture window that was visible out of the corner of his eye seemed to spin just a little bit. _See Rog, you should have just gone to bed last night instead of playing like an idiot. What, do you think that playing Musetta's Waltz fifty thousand times is somehow going to help Mark?_

"Hey Collins," Roger began, staring intently at his friend, attempting to ask the question before Alexia tried to beat the answer out of the professor. Roger pictured that scene in his mind and almost chuckled...almost. "Uh, hey, dude, do you remember what exactly you were doing when the lights went out last night?"

Collins chuckled drunkenly again. "What Roger, are you writing a book, man?"

"No, no," Roger answered, "I, uh, just, um you know, wondered. No, I'm not writing anything. Never really like forming sentences on paper that weren't for songs."

Angel suddenly jumped to her feet. "Coffee anyone?" She declared and set off for the kitchen. "I'm thirsty, is anyone else? Alexia, chica, where do you guys keep the coffee filters?" She began rifling through random drawers and cupboards.

"Mark and I don't really drink coffee. Tea, that, I can help you with, coffee, not so much." Alexia answered, standing and following Angel into the "kitchen", and beginning to search for the filters as well.

Roger shook his head as he stood, shaking off the sleep that was wearing at the edges of his vision.

Suddenly, Angel screamed.

&&&&

ALEXIA'S POV

"Angel, what?" I cried as she kept screaming.

"In there! In there!" She called, pointing to the open drawer above the wastebasket. "Oh my godohmygodohmygodohmygod!"

"What?" I called again, following her point.

I gasped. In the drawer, on top of the spare invitations to the dinner party, was a revolver.

&&&&

ALEXIA'S POV (Later)

My first instinct was to call the police, the nice red haired detective that had interviewed me the night that Mark was shot. She'd know what to do, and I had her on speakerphone.

"Don't let anybody touch it." She said. "No one, okay?"

"Sure." I said, beginning to cry again.

But, this could be the break that we needed in cracking this case...finally.

"Read me the serial number if you can see it." The detective said.

I peered into the drawer, and, thankfully, I could see the seven raised numbers. "Okay, six, nine, eight, five, four, two, zero." I heard the clicking of a keyboard.

"Okay," the detective began. "It shows here that that firearm is registered to a Miss Mimi Marquez."

At that exact moment, Roger swayed and then collapsed.


End file.
